


Heal

by VisiblyHidden



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Daenerys Targaryen-centric, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Missandei Lives, jonerys baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 04:22:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20718026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisiblyHidden/pseuds/VisiblyHidden
Summary: In which Dany is brought back from death, and must face the horrible truth of it all.





	Heal

When she had first awakened, Daenerys was confused. A cursory glance around the dimly lit room told her she was alone, and definitely not dead. In fact, she was very much _ alive, _since she was pretty sure the afterlife didn't have comfortable beds.

That was what confused her the most. She was meant to be dead...she was _ sure _ she had been. The last thing she could remember was standing near the Iron Throne in King’s Landing with Jon Snow, and then... _ nothing. _ With no memory of her death, Daenerys knew she was missing something very critical.

What she needed most right now were answers, and she needed them now.

The sound of a door opening, followed closely by footsteps, caught her attention as panic flooded through her. Daenerys looked around quickly, searching for something, _ anything _to protect herself with, to no avail. Suddenly, the footsteps came to a stop. Steeling herself, she turned to face her would-be attacker, only to come face to face with someone very dear to her.

“Missandei? Is it really you?”

“It’s me your grace,” she said with a warm smile.

Without another word, Daenerys leapt up and hugged her dearest friend. She couldn't stop the tears from falling even if she wanted to.

“Shh it’s alright, you’re safe now. I will explain everything. But first tell me, what do you remember?”

“I...I remember being near the Iron Throne, speaking with Jon Snow...” At the mention of his name, Missandei visibly paled. “I know I..._ died, _but I don't know how it happened.”

“Is that all you remember?”

Daenerys nodded, but the sinking feeling that Missandei had kept something from her, gnawed at her.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“Khaleesi, you know I would _ never _ lie to you. But perhaps, you should speak with the High Priestess.” Missandei paused, trying to find the right words. “She is the one who brought you back.”

Daenerys shifted uncomfortably “So...am I to understand that we are no longer in Westeros?”

The abrupt change of subject startled her friend, but she answered her nonetheless. “No, we are not. We are in Volantis. The Red Temple.”

“And you say, she can help me?”

“Yes. I admit I was quite skeptical at first, but the moment she brought you back…” A lone tear ran down Missandei’s cheek. “Speak with her, she can help you. I’m sure of it.”

Daenerys trusted her friend with her life. If Missandei believed this woman could help her, then she had no reason to doubt her.

“Alright, I will speak to her.” As Missandei helped her into some fresh clothing and fixed her hair, Daenerys couldn’t help feeling that perhaps she was better off not knowing the truth. But she needed to know, no matter how unpleasant the truth may be.

* * *

With Missandei at her side, the two made their way down the dark, narrow hallways of the temple. Daenerys had faced far worse, yet the prospect of meeting this woman terrified her. She was no stranger to the Lord of Light and his followers; for she had met the High Priestess Melisandre once.

But Melisandre hadn't been the one to bring Daenerys back, it was Kinvara. And that was what terrified her.

As they came to the end of a long, winding hallway, a large set of doors awaited them. This was it.

“Would you like me to go with you?”

“No, I will be alright. This is something I must do alone.”

Missandei gave her a reassuring smile, “Then I shall be right outside if you need me.”

Daenerys hugged her friend once more, before opening the door.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Daenerys was met with a sparsely decorated room, with a large fire burning in the center pit. It took her a moment to adjust to the sudden brightness from the fire, and for another moment, Daenerys wondered if she had entered the wrong room. There was no one else here, except for her. But Missandei had led her here, so it must have been the right one.

Something about the fire in the center called to her, wanting her to come closer. She took a hesitant step forward, coming closer to the fire. As she drew closer, she extended her hand out toward the flames, and just before her fingers met the fire, a voice startled her.

“Daenerys Stormborn.”

Standing before her, was an impossibly beautiful woman dressed in elegant red robes. She looked unusually young to be a High Priestess.

She cleared her throat, “you must be the High Priestess, Kinvara.”

“You are correct your grace.”

At the mention of her former title, Daenerys stiffened. “Please, don’t call me that, I am not a queen. Not anymore.” She didn’t mind when Missandei called her that, but it felt wrong to allow anyone else to address her as such, especially since she was a queen no longer.

“Oh? Have you no more desire to rule?”

“No.” And she didn’t.

For her part, Kinvara didn’t seem surprised by the admission, only intrigued.

“The Lord of Light chose you for a reason. He does not choose those who give up so easily. You are a fighter Daenerys Stormborn.”

At that she bristled, “I do not care one way or the other about what you or your Lord want from me. All I want to know is why you brought be back, and why I cannot remember how I died.”

Kinvara came closer then, an odd look on her face. Daenerys felt as though she was looking right into her very soul.

“Your dragon brought you here in haste, as if the beast knew I could help you. I brought you back because it was our Lord’s wish,” she stated as if the answer was obvious. “And I do as he commands. As for your memory…” the woman paused, as if to think over her next words carefully. “Perhaps it is not that you cannot remember, but rather, that you do not _ wish _ to.”

Daenerys was becoming irritable as these word games went on. “What do you mean I don’t wish to? If the memory was there, don’t you believe I would recall it on my own?” She was angry now, though Kinvara still appeared unfazed by Daenerys’ rapidly changing mood.

“Perhaps…however, painful memories are often easily buried so we do not have to face the truth.”

Deep in the pit of her stomach, Daenerys knew there was truth in those words. Something terrible had happened, and it resulted in her death. She tried so hard to remember, but it wouldn’t come to her.

“I...I can’t.” She was on the verge of tears now.

“You are not trying hard enough, Daenerys Stormborn.”

Angry tears now flowed freely, “I told you I cannot! No matter how hard I try, it won’t come.”

Kinvara spoke harshly now, “you were dead, but you did not lose your memory. If Jon Snow could remember what happened before he died, then so can you. Accept the truth for what it is.”

_ Jon. _

All it took was Kinvara’s harsh persistence, the mention of _ his _ name, and everything came back in full force. She couldn’t breathe. It felt as though the walls were closing in on her, swallowing her whole.

Daenerys slid to the ground, tears hitting the floor. She did not care that she was sobbing in front of Kinvara. 

The High Priestess knelt down in front of her, lifting Daenerys’ face up to meet her own. “Do you remember now?”

“He-he..._ killed _ me. Jon Snow betrayed me, and he killed me.”

“Yes.”

“I should hate him for what he did to me. I should hunt him down and kill him.”

“Killing Jon Snow will not right the wrongs done to you, Daenerys Stormborn.”

“No, it won’t.” Her voice raspy, her throat raw, and pained, she struggled to pull herself up.

Kinvara looked at her strangely just then. “The Lord of Light knows what is best. And right now, it is best for you to take time to recover. Especially in your condition.”

“Do you mean for someone who’s just been brought back to life?” Daenerys wasn’t quite sure how she managed sarcasm at this moment, but it was the only response that came to mind.

“No, you need to take care of yourself. For the child’s sake.”

_ What? _

At her silence, Kinvara continued. “You were with child before you died, and when Jon Snow killed you, he unknowingly killed your child as well.”

If Daenerys thought she was angry before, nothing compared to the _ rage _ she felt now. “How dare you mock me! You must really take me for a fool! As I’m sure you’ve no doubt been made aware, I cannot have children!” Her chest heaved with rage, as she struggled to regain her composure.

“Mock you? I respect you far too much to ever do something so cruel, Daenerys Stormborn.” Kinvara circled her as she continued on, “I speak the truth. You were not the first to ever be brought back from death. However, imagine my shock when I realized that not only had I brought back the last true Targaryen, but her unborn child as well.”

“This is impossible.”

“And yet here you stand.”

“I refuse to believe such lies.” Just then, a door opened. Missandei entered, coming to stand next to her friend. Kinvara watched the two closely.

“It’s true your grace. The Maester confirmed it.” She swallowed nervously, “I would never lie to you about this.”

In her heart, she knew Missandei would never lie to her. Not even to spare her feelings.

“I know.”

“Do you believe me now?” The Red Woman asked her.

Missandei took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I...I suppose I have no choice.” She swallowed, feeling what little strength she had left, seep out of her.

“Come your grace, you should rest.”

She let her friend lead her out of the room, and as they left, Kinvara spoke one final time.

“Be well, Daenerys Stormborn, for we shall meet again one day.”

* * *

With nowhere else safe to go, the two had decided to come to Naath. No one would look for them here. Missandei would tell her it wasn’t exactly as she remembered it, but much was still the same. It was peaceful here, and for Daenerys, that was all she needed.

From her terrace overlooking the shores of Naath, Daenerys watched as Missandei and her little girl played in the sand, smiling at the sight. It was comforting to see her child laugh and play with not a care in the world. This was all she ever wanted in life, and it brought her great comfort to know her daughter would get to live that life, and that she would know true peace.

So much had happened in her short life, and as time passed, Daenerys was reminded of how naive she had once been. She had believed the people of Westeros would love her. In fact, she recalled Viserys telling her how the Westerosi longed for the return of Targaryen rule, and how they cried out for their true king and queen to return once more.

But as strong as she was, and as commanding as her presence had once been, nothing could have prepared her for what she would face upon reaching Westeros. The heartache, betrayal_ , _ and the loss of so many she held dear had simply been too much for her to bear. How much was one person meant to take? Why hadn't Jon understood that without his loyalty, his support, and his trust, she had no safe place to fall back on? She was left to the wolves with no one to look out for her.

Instead, he’d betrayed her...murdered her in cold blood. She was put down like she was some kind of rabid animal. The memory of her death would never fade, even with time. Sleeping was very difficult these days, as Jon’s face haunted her almost every night. Some days, Daenerys wondered how she would continue on and live. And on the bad days, Daenerys wanted nothing more than to lock herself away, and never see the light of day again.

Only one thing in her life kept her going, and that was her daughter Laena.

Her little girl looked every bit the Targaryen, except for the eyes...Laena had Jon’s dark eyes. Sometimes, even just looking at them made her want to cry.

“Mama, why are you sad?” It was asked with such genuine concern, that Daenerys realized at only three years old, Laena was much more attuned to her mother’s emotions than she let on. She must have inherited that from her father.

“I’m not sad, sweetheart. How could I be when I have you?” She said as she pulled the little girl closer. “Would you like to come with me to visit Drogon for awhile?” At that, Laena squealed, grabbing her mother’s hand, trying to pull her toward the door.

Ever since then, Daenerys tried to be mindful of her emotions around Laena. She didn’t want the little girl to grow up carrying her mother’s many burdens on her shoulders.

She knew that she would have to tell Laena about her father one day, but for now, it was her job to protect her from all the bad things in the world. And she would be damned if she let anything take her daughter’s innocence away before she’d even had the chance to grow up.

And despite having every right to hate Jon for what he’d done, she knew she simply couldn't. How could she, when he had given her the most precious gift imaginable?

Just then, Laena came barreling into the room, arms laden with an array of several different kinds of seashells.

“Look Mama! Aren’t they pretty?” She said, dumping her finds onto the table.

“Oh my, they’re lovely! Did Aunt Missandei help you pick these?” Laena nodded enthusiastically, quickly pulling something from her small bag, and handed it to her.

It was a pretty red shell. The only red one in the bunch.

“It’s for you, Mama. It’s Tagallyen color!” Laena exclaimed, clearly pleased with herself.

Daenerys smiled at the endearing mispronunciation of their family name.

“Indeed it is. Thank you sweetheart, I shall treasure it forever.”

The little girl gave her a toothy smile, before going back to her beloved seashells. As Daenerys watched her, she was reminded that every horrible thing she’d ever gone through, led to this very moment.

And for the first time in her life, Daenerys finally knew true peace.


End file.
